


splotches and space

by amybri2002



Series: soulmate september [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Panic Attack, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybri2002/pseuds/amybri2002
Summary: Virgil has never talked to his soulmate before, but one day becomes desperate for someone to talk to and tries to get their attention.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: soulmate september [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905379
Comments: 13
Kudos: 192





	splotches and space

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: when you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Virgil knew that he had a soulmate, despite all the people who told he didn't, he couldn't _possibly_ have a soulmate, who would even _want_ to be his soulmate? No, he _knew_ that he had a soulmate - there was always ink marks around his fingers, paint splotches on his arm. And yeah, he painted as well, and wrote a lot, he supposed, but not all of those marks were from him. They just _appeared_ , out of nowhere. So he _must_ have had a soulmate.

It would be nice if his soulmate would communicate with him in some way. He wondered sometimes if he'd upset his soulmate in some way, but he'd never actually wrote anything to his soulmate, so how would he have done that? No, no, they... maybe they had their own things going on. Which was fine. Or maybe Virgil should have just made the first move.

No, _definitely_ not. Virgil didn't start conversations. He didn't even know what he would say. What were you meant to talk to your soulmate about?

So for years he didn't. He avoided writing on his skin as much as possible, wore long sleeves all the time (even in summer) so that he didn't have to see how _bare_ they were compared to others, and tried his best to forget about everything.

It wasn't until Virgil was eighteen that he began to see writing popping up on his skin. Hands at first, little reminders on the palm - words for speeches, shopping lists, sometimes just random numbers and letters. It was at this point that he considered actually writing something back, but, once again, he didn't know what to say.

The day he finally did write something wasn’t a day he was particularly proud of. He was alone in his room, no one else in the house, hearing noises in the corridors, quietly freaking out at how alone, how helpless he was. What if someone else was in the house, someone he didn’t know? What if someone broke his bedroom door down right now and murdered him, who would he call to help?

Usually on days like this he could call his friends, speak to them as he went about his day, at least had them in the background. But Patton was out of town visiting family, away from all electrical devices, and Roman was busy at rehearsals, so instead he sat in his room, utterly alone, with only the sound of his own increasingly irregular heartbeat to keep him company.

So he wrote to his soulmate. A simple _hello_ on his palm, hoping that maybe they would see soon. 

It took a while. Virgil could see other ink splotches appearing around his fingers, but no reply. To attempt to calm himself down, he began to draw swirls on his hands, around the message and on the other side too, in a half-attempt to make his soulmate take notice sooner. Before he had an actual heart attack, or stopped breathing at all.

_Can you stop that?_ he read, as the letters appeared on his arm. Virgil stopped drawing.

_sorry. i just needed your attention._ His handwriting was messy, hand shaking, but he tried to make it as legible as possible.

_I don’t know you._

_i think i’m dying._ An overreaction, really. He knew that. But the shallow breathe and fast-paced heart wasn’t a particularly good sign.

It took a while for another message to appear, during which Virgil just continued to draw swirls. It was calming, he supposed. Something to focus on rather than his anxiety. But eventually, they wrote back, _What’s wrong?_

_heart’s being weird. anxious. need something to focus on._

_Is there anything I can do?_

_keep me company?_

There was another long pause between messages, before his soulmate started writing again, a huge paragraph about... some science thing, something to do with space. Virgil read it, trying to wrap his head around it but failing to do so, but still managing to calm down a little just by focusing on it, reading the words, looking at their cute, neat handwriting, finding it pretty, like the way they dotted their i’s with a little circle, and occasionally drew little lines with arrows to connect different thoughts. Every now and then Virgil would draw a little heart or planet next to some of the words, a fact that he found interesting, or wrote a question mark next to something he didn’t understand, and his soulmate would go into more depth.

Hours flew by like seconds, and soon enough he was no longer home alone, his parents returning. He could breathe normally, and his fears had been almost completely wiped.

_thank you. i’m okay now._

_Good._

_i’m virgil, by the way._

_Logan._

_can we talk again another time? you’re really smart, you know._

_I do know. I’d be willing to teach you more if you’d like._

_thank you._

_Are you safe?_

_yes._

_Good. I’ll keep in touch._

After that, the two began to speak more. Whenever he got anxious, Virgil would draw planets and stars on his skin and Logan would surround them with little facts, and Virgil slowly fell in love.


End file.
